


In The Trainer's Room

by e_li_za



Category: Check Please! (Webcomic)
Genre: I love them so much, M/M, ahaha, clark is quiet, don't you love it when theres no canon, snowy is a little shit, so you can make everything up, their ship name is snowman
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-05-22
Updated: 2016-05-22
Packaged: 2018-06-10 02:38:00
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,458
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6935437
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/e_li_za/pseuds/e_li_za
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Snowy hates being in the trainer's room</p><p>Until he doesn't</p>
            </blockquote>





	In The Trainer's Room

**Author's Note:**

> So you know that panel from this update http://omgcheckplease.tumblr.com/post/142983565002 where Snowy is being /sensually massaged/ in the trainer's room? This is their story.

During his first season with the Falcs, Snowy honestly hadn’t meant to get hurt that much. It was mostly just the knees and hamstrings, and he hated every minute of it. On his old team, the Aeros, he had been a 1B goalie, and the 1A guy, Pistorius, had a fantastic season, and he hadn’t gotten much ice time. No one was surprised when he was traded, but that meant that he was a little out of practice once he got to Providence. In any case, he spent an unnecessarily long amount of time on his ass in the trainer’s room. 

The trainer guy, Clark, was a quiet type. Snowy didn’t mind. He never lacked something to say. 

“So fuckin, then, this asshole’s stick is 100 kilometers off the ice, or like, 50 miles for you American heathens.”

Clark just smiled and kept massaging Snowy’s calf. 

“And then, ow! What the fuck, brah?”

“I guess we’ve found the problem area.”

“You're goddamned right it’s a problem area! Whatever. So, this half-melted butt plug from the Blackhawks gives me a straight up stick to the face. Now, I’m waiting to hear the ref make a call, but, it seems that he was riding the other teams’ dick so hard that he went temporarily blind, because, fuckin, radio silence.”

This was how their relationship went. Physical therapy and cursing and smiles.

When the guys on the team asked him how he managed to rack up so many injuries, even with all that goalie padding, he just shrugged. 

“I guess I just have shitty luck.”

By the next season, he stopped pulling so many muscles and straining as many ligaments. He was getting into the swing of things, with guys and on the ice, but he was… missing something. He couldn’t put his finger on exactly what, but he felt empty. It was only after he pulled his hamstring that he realised what it was. 

“Hey Snowy. It's good to see you. Well, not for your hamstring, but still.”

Clark’s presence was not loud. He didn’t yell or joke around or chirp the guys all that much. But, he had made a place in Snowy’s life, and he had missed their sessions. 

“Glad to know you missed me, Superman.”

Snowy couldn’t tell, but he thought he saw Clark blush. Yeah, he had missed this.   
So, Snowy started… exaggerating his injuries. It wasn’t that he was lying, it was just that, well, every bruise and twinge seemed to warrant a visit to the trainer’s room. 

“What are you in for now Snow?”

 

“I’m - it’s - I have a thing - with my knee.” 

“A thing?”

 

“Yeah. A thing.”

Clark just smiled and played along. 

“So, Supes, I feel like I’m always talking about myself, but what about you? Who is the person behind those magic hands?”

 

“Oh. You know. I just help you guys out. It’s my job.”

 

Snowy placed his hand dramatically over his heart.

“Clark. You wound me. Do you really just spend all this time with me for the money?”

“No. I mean, yes, but-”

 

“Clark, tell the truth, do you hate me? Am I just some annoying fucker that you are forced to massage, only suffering through to get that sweet, sweet paycheck?”

His tone was sarcastic, but Snowy honestly wanted to know the answer. He knew he was loud and he swore too much, and he highly doubted that anyone really liked him. He was just an unwanted 1B goalie from an expansion team, and his playing was his best trait. 

“No, it’s. Snowy. David. There’s a reason I don’t kick you out when you come in here with an imaginary injury every goddamned day. I… I like spending time with you.”

 

Snowy was shocked. Did Clark really mean all of that? His voice came out shaky and full of emotion. 

“Well, I don’t just come in here for shits and giggles either.” 

They stared at each other, Clark’s hand still on Snowy’s leg. Suddenly, the door of the office burst open. 

“Snowy! There you are! We look everywhere for you! Why you in trainer’s room anyway? You are being goalie! It is not like you checking by anybody.”

Snowy held eye contact with Clark for a moment more, and then stood up. 

“I’m coming, you crazy Russian fucker. And Clark… see you later.”

Sadly, “later” was sooner than they had anticipated. At the Falc’s next game, they were down 3-1. Snowy went aggressively out into no-man’s land, and then... 

No one could tell what had happened. One second he was standing up on his skates, blocking the goal, and then… he wasn’t. 

As he looked up at the ceiling of the rink, he thought about his life choices. Well, mostly he thought about the pain. The excruciating pain in his upper thigh and fuck it hurt it hurt it hurt. 

There was a stretcher. He was being taken off the rink in a stretcher. How embarrassing. 

A lot of people were packed into the trainers room, asking him how he was doing and where it hurt and whether he could skate (he couldn't skate, he could barely think) but he only cared about one. 

He wasn't saying anything, just looking down at Snowy worriedly, hands reaching out but not touching. 

The medics examined him and touched him where it hurt (God, it hurt) and Clark hovered nearby. They gave him some pain meds, which were nice. It stopped hurting as much, and he felt good and warm. Or maybe that had more to do with the person left in the room with him. Snowy sat up. 

“Hey Supes. How’re you doing?”

“I'm…”

Clarke’s voice was shaky again, scared. He was sitting next to Snowy, still not making contact. 

“You really scared me there Snow. And they wouldn't let me touch you. Even though I'm your trainer and just because those punk ass kids graduated med school - two fucking days ago, by the looks of it - doesn't mean -”

“Hey, Clark.”

Snowy took Clark’s hand. 

“I’m okay. It’s okay.”

“I know. It’s just… I was worried. I was so worried.”

“Why?You’d think they’d pay you extra for something big like this.”

 

Clark laughed, but his eyes were still wary. 

“Fuck off, Snowy.”

They sat there, smiling, still holding hands for a moment. Snowy knew that he probably shouldn’t be this happy: his team was out there without him, this injury might affect the rest of the season, and his thigh still throbbed through the pain meds, but…

“Hey, Clark. Thanks. For like, caring. About me. It means a lot. And, I care about you too. I like spending time with you, and I know that I can be an annoying son of a bitch sometimes, but you put up with me, which is great. And also you have really pretty eyes, and fuckin, magic hands dude. Like, how the fuck? It's so great. And I lied, when I said that I had a knee thing. I didn’t. I just wanted to see you. You probably knew that already but -”

 

All of a sudden, the two were a lot closer together. That might’ve had something to do with the fact that Snowy’s eyes had been firmly set on Clarke’s lips for most of his drug-fueled rant, but he was surprised nonetheless. He looked up, and found a smile in Clarke’s eyes.

“Can you just shut up for one minute of your life, Snowy.”

And, before he could say something stupid and cliche like “Make me”, Clark kissed him. 

Clark kissed him, and it was everything he hadn't know he desperately wanted for the last 2 years. It was sweet and soft and not too sloppy. He couldn’t do much but smile, and put his hand on Clark’s chest.

They pulled back, still smiling at each other like idiots.

“So, Supes, this injury…”

He raised an eyebrow.

“It’s, uhh, groin-related, right?”

\-----

“Hello and welcome to the Geico Pre-Game Rundown on NBC. Geico, 15 minutes can save you 15 percent or more on car insurance. Now, Claude, the Providence goalie, Snow-Durand, has made a shockingly fast recovery since his gnarly injury during their game with the Preds last month. Is he back to 100 percent, and, if so, how has he done it?”

“Well, my guess is that the injury wasn’t as bad as it seemed at the time. I mean, it did look pretty brutal, but he seems to be skating very well and making some good saves.”

“That could be true, but I have it on good authority that Snow has been extremely dedicated to his recovery.”

“Is that so?”

“Yeah, inside sources on the Falconers say that he has been spending a lot of time in the trainer's room.”

**Author's Note:**

> GET IT? LIKE CLARK KENT? So then they have a lot of fun in the trainer's room with Clark's *magic hands*. The guys here a lot of... things. Mainly just cursing and moaning, which is usual for Snowy in the trainers room. But they also just like spending time together, alone and with other people. ThEy LOve EaCHOthEr oKAy? But also Snowy is an Ultimate Ho(TM) and is all over his man 24/7. The other guys think it's a joke. It's not a joke. 
> 
> Okay. I'm done. But also SEND ME HEADCANNONS AND PROMPTS. P L E A S E.


End file.
